“You noticed.”
“Indeed. And, not that I wish to hurry you, but your jailers will, at some point, come to check on you, and finding you dangling from a hay door could be rather awkward.”
“Very true.” Lydia sighed deeply enough for Robert to hear her. “On three, then.”
“Excellent, idea.”
“One … two … three.”
Lydia arrived in his arms almost before the count was complete. She was not heavy, but the momentum of her descent was such that Robert dropped to the ground to prevent a severe jarring. They landed in a heap all but nose to nose, with Robert underneath. Neither moved for several minutes.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Robert chuckled softly. “More to the point, are you?” They were both breathing heavily from anxiety and exertion—yes, that was all. He did not notice the press of her soft body against his. He was not aware that her lips were mere inches … so close and—
“I’m in fine fettle, thanks to you.”
Her breath puffed gently across his face, and Robert pulled his gaze from Lydia’s tantalizing lips to her concerned eyes. “Well, that makes two of us.”
Using his shoulders, Lydia pushed up and, unfortunately, off him, sliding to his side. There, she made no attempt to rise. “I’m heartily glad to be on this side of the wall. It was not the most enjoyable of experiences.”
“It? The jump, the climb, the cell…?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Robert nodded, finding his feet. “Shall we go?” He offered Lydia a hand and pulled her into a standing position. Not quite steady, she leaned on Robert until she regained her balance. They might have stood staring at each other for some moments had it not been for a rustle in the woods that startled them from their stupor.
It was only the wind whistling through the trees, but it served as a reminder. Now was not the time to dillydally. There were villains aplenty on the other side of the barn: villains who would not appreciate their attempt to vacate the premises.
“Follow me,” Robert whispered as he fought his way through the shrubbery to the awaiting mare.
Chapter 9
In which an enlightened friendship has its beginnings
The road was barely discernible when Robert finally led Lydia—and the horse, which she had named Fanny—out of the ditch. They had slunk away from the Beyer farm through the bushes, making their way via the trench running alongside what should rightly have been called a lane. Still uncertain of their security on the main road, they chose to endure the mucky ditch, walking for several miles in tense silence. As the distance from the farm increased, their fears of discovery lessened, and yet they found no sanctuary. The few cottages and farms they encountered were shuttered and dark against the night. No refuge to be found—only miles of empty road to Bath.
The moon was not full; in fact, it was barely over half. Still, it provided enough light to allow a faster pace, certainly better than a ditch that was rocky and slippery with moss. At first, Lydia rode Fanny alone—sitting astride with her skirts hitched to her knees in a very unladylike display.
Robert said that he preferred to jog alongside. Lydia knew him to be cutting shams—that he was concerned about her modesty. Chivalry and good manners were all well and good in a ballroom. However, being on a lonely road while rushing away from villainous villains was neither the time nor the place for excessive decorum. When it became apparent that maintaining propriety was slowing them down and increasing their danger, Robert relented.
Had circumstances been different, the process of getting Robert seated safely and comfortably behind her would have caused considerable mirth. It was awkward enough mounting from a stump, but near impossible to stay on Fanny’s back without holding on to her person. He tried and proceeded to slide off—twice.
“Hold on, Robert. Put your hands on my waist.”
“Your waist? But … but…”
Lydia reached behind her, grabbed his hands, and pulled them around her. “Propriety will have to stand aside for the moment. Just don’t think on it.”
Robert remained silent for a moment. “That’s easier said than done.” His voice was strangely husky.
Urging the horse forward, Lydia smiled. She was rather intrigued by the feel of his body pressed so tightly against her; the sensation was quite agreeable—strangely comforting and exciting at the same time. With the extra weight, they couldn’t push Fanny into a canter, even with her rest at the barn, but the horse could manage a trot easily enough. And so, at last, they started to make headway.
Just as Lydia was approaching a state of decreased apprehension, she detected a sound. A sound that she had been expecting—but did not want to hear. Pounding hooves. Riders—moving fast.
In an instant, Lydia slipped down Fanny’s side while Robert slid off the back. He pulled the horse across the road and into the shrubbery while Lydia leaped into the ditch. She found a tall, bushy weed and hunkered behind it, ignoring the smell of rotting vegetation—and other less pleasant odors. Frozen in fear, Lydia waited. It was a long wait, and then all too soon, the riders were upon them.
Three men on horseback.
Lydia recognized the thug called Les immediately, but they thundered past with such speed that she had no time to discern who was with him. The other two figures were a blur, and soon the trio was lost to the dark, and the pounding of iron on gravel faded away. Frowning, Lydia met Robert on the crest of the road. They stared into the night after the riders.
“That was—” Lydia was about to say “odd,” but she didn’t want to appear ungrateful for going unnoticed.
“Odd,” Robert finished for her.
“Yes, exactly.” Lydia nodded and then shook her head. “They were not searching for me. Not at all. How extraordinary … to go to such lengths to abduct me, then not…”
“Perhaps they searched around the farm. Then fled, believing that you would bring the law down on them.”
“Yes, I suppose. That makes sense,” she agreed absentmindedly as they mounted Fanny again. “But it is rather lackadaisical.” This time the closeness of their persons felt natural, and Lydia leaned against him; he did not protest. In fact, he tightened his hold for several glorious moments, and Lydia was entirely distracted. However, sense prevailed. Robert loosened his hold, and Lydia heeled the horse into a quick walk.
“When I think on it, Robert, this whole affair is rather peculiar. I know nothing of kidnapping or kidnappers, but one would assume that once the abductee is secured, one would check on said person every so often. And yet there was no checking—I ran around that barn at my leisure.… Well, not really, but you understand what I mean.”
“Yes, indeed. If I had a habit of making off with young ladies—not that I would—but if I were a black-hearted villain relying on ransoms, I would not leave a length of rope with a prisoner.”
“Rather inept.”